


Learnin' The Blues

by orphan_account



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Angst, Crossdressing, M/M, Not much to tag but here, OOOOHHH BOY, This is a wild ride, lmfao enjoy this it's actually the best writing I've ever done
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-18
Updated: 2017-05-25
Packaged: 2018-11-02 01:28:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10934142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: When you are a middle-aged gay man trying to get over someone, there aren't many options. It's hard to just go out and meet people who would be into you; either they're straight, or younger than you to the point where you feel weird trying to hook up with them.Luckily, Patrick believes he has found a solution.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Oh boy. Ohhhhh boy. 
> 
> This is HIGHKEY my best writing ever. Not even gonna lie. So I hope people like it as much as I do. 
> 
> And it's...it's wild. It already has a whole plot and everything, which is rather unusual for me. I also correctly punctuated the dialogue. Am I okay?
> 
> Title is, of course, a reference to the Sinatra song. 
> 
> Enjoy !!

When you are a middle-aged gay man trying to get over someone, there aren't many options. It's hard to just go out and meet people who would be into you; either they're straight, or younger than you to the point where you feel weird trying to hook up with them. 

Luckily, Patrick believes he has found a solution. A rather unconventional solution, yes, but it's a solution nonetheless. 

Here is his logic: guys his age are unlikely to go for him, simply because they're far too straight. So what _do_ straight guys go for?

Well, girls, obviously. 

This isn't even the strangest plan Patrick has ever executed. On a scale of one to ten, it's maybe a seven at best. But he still feels like he's in a bit over his head as he assures the cashier that all the makeup and dresses he's buying are for his girlfriend. 

Oh, irony. 

Patrick doesn't even know how to do makeup. But he's already fully funded this stupid idea, so he does his best, and it turns out his best isn't even completely horrible. He counts this as a win. 

Patrick is in no way a fashion expert. But his philosophy is something like "if you buy out half of the department store, at least one thing must look good". In the end, he's wearing a sleeveless satiny black dress that buttons up the front with a creamy bow around the middle and a neat-looking collar. It doesn't look totally horrible, and he reluctantly admits to himself he does like it, a little, so it will do. 

He goes with a simple pair of black flats on the shoe front; at this point, he figures he's already put way too much thought into this whole thing. 

Of course he'd gotten a wig too, because there's no way in hell this would be convincing otherwise. It's about chin length, bleach blond, and not quite curly, but also not straight. He puts this on, too, and then allows himself a minute or so of looking himself over in the mirror, because if he's honest, he looks damn good. He almost doesn't recognize himself, but he supposes that's the point. 

He gets into his car and heads out, taking deep breaths to calm himself. To distract himself from the question of "why the hell am I doing this?", he practices changing his voice. It's got to be convincing, which isn't that hard when he gets down to it. This is a relief. 

And then there's the matter of figuring out where to go; what sort of bar has nice guys? None, he figures. So he chooses a random place that he's never been to before and crosses his fingers that he'll meet someone who isn't a total douche. That's the idea, at least. 

"The idea" is smashed the second he walks in to find his bar of choice full of a combination of drunk guys, couples who seem all too familiar with PDA, and a couple guys who can be identified as fuckboys by appearance alone. But Patrick has come this far, and hell if he isn't at least going to make an attempt. 

He sits down right at the bar, pushing back the intense regret that's threatening to surface. This was his idea. He got himself into this, and he's going to push through. 

The bartender, a girl who must be in her mid twenties with a short black ponytail and glittery eyeshadow, practically runs over to him, looking worried. 

"Please tell me you're not going to hit on me, too," she practically pleads, looking desperate. 

Patrick actually laughs. Putting into action his previously practiced feminine voice, he replies, "Oh, god no."

"Thank god," the bartender says and laughs too, relieved. "It feels like every person here has been a straight guy or a gay girl and they all want to hit on me."

Patrick smiles nervously, glad he can at least provide relief to this poor girl, even if this isn't going to plan at all. 

"Don't worry," he assures her. "I'm..." he almost says "straight", but this entire plan is enough of a lie in itself, so he goes with, "...into guys."

"Good," the bartender grins, then quickly adds, "No offense to all the perfectly nice lesbians out there."

"God, I _hope_ all these girls drunk off their asses aren't representative of the majority of the lesbian population," Patrick jokes, eliciting a laugh from the bartender. 

"You're funny," she says. "Want a drink?"

After a moment of deliberation, Patrick goes with, "Martini, please."

"Comin' right up," the bartender says, giving him one last smile before walking off. 

She returns after about a minute with a martini, and slides it to Patrick with a wink. She looks like she wants to talk again, but some super drunk guy calls for another, so, with a disgusted look, she heads off in that direction, leaving Patrick alone again. 

The moment of peace is over. Patrick is thrust back into regret. The martini is good, but he's alone and anxious and he's pretty sure the loud drunk across the bar is whistling at _him_.

He's vaguely aware that someone is sliding into the seat next to him, but because it's highly probable it's the drunk guy trying to talk him up, he ignores it. 

At least, until whoever the person is speaks. 

"Sorry all the guys here are such assholes," whoever is to his right says loudly. Patrick isn't looking, but it's obvious it's directed at him. 

Patrick decides to take the gamble that maybe, just maybe, he's found someone who isn't a drunk asshole, and responds with a humorous smile, eyes not moving from his drink, "I assume you think you're better than that?"

"Well, that's not for me to decide," comes the response, and Patrick lets out a breath of relief. Maybe he has found a nice guy. Maybe this was worth it after all. 

Then he turns to face his unknown companion, and his stomach drops. 

There's a common cliche in movies that goes something like this: Character is trying to avoid or get over someone. Character is doing something specifically to assist them in doing this. Character inadvertently runs directly into the very person they were trying to run from in the first place. 

"I-" Patrick chokes back more words, because he's sure if he lets himself talk longer he'll say something he regrets. 

"Are you okay?" Joe asks. He's gotten a haircut since Patrick last saw him and Patrick is currently busy trying to use that as a marker as to how long it really has been.

How long _has_ it been?

"I - oh, yeah," he stammers out quickly. The way he sees it, there's only a few ways this could go. But the only one he can think of where he doesn't completely ruin everything beyond the point it's already ruined is one where he plays along and uses this opportunity for what the purpose of this plan was all along. He forces a smile back onto his face and says, "It's just that the nice guys aren't usually so good looking."

Joe snorts, which Patrick takes as a sign that he'd done the right thing, and replies, "That's a good one. Funny."

Patrick mentally scrambles for a response. His head is spinning and he briefly can't recall how words are supposed to work, so finally he just says, "Yeah, sure."

"I'm Joe," Joe says and extends a hand ultra-formally, because he doesn't know Patrick already knows that. He doesn't - _can't_ \- know who Patrick really is. 

Patrick's throat goes dry; here is a seriously flaw in his plan that he definitively left unaccounted for. He needs a name. 

"I'm-" His eyes scan the room for anything that could help, but he's getting nothing. Finally, his eyes settle on the beer that a girl across the bar is holding, and he finishes, "Amber."

He takes Joe's open hand and shakes it, giving a smile he hopes isn't _too_ nervous. 

Joe doesn't seem to notice anything wrong. He just laughs and says, "Well, nice to meet you, Amber."

"You too," Patrick hopes his voice doesn't come out too strained; the combination of trying to sound unlike himself and his nerves isn't too good for it. 

Joe chuckles, like he somehow finds Patrick's awkwardness endearing. Then again, he always did, didn't he?

"I...I think I need to go," Patrick lies. His drink is only half done and he's only been here for fifteen minutes at most, but he's already regretting this entire idea. He wants out. 

"Oh, okay," Joe looks disappointed, but still okay with the idea of Patrick leaving. So Patrick can get out and forget this ever happened and burn everything he'd gotten for this and it will all be fine. 

But then Joe changes everything and asks, "Can I at least have your number? You seem really nice."

Patrick wants to scream, but to his credit, he holds it back. He doesn't want to seem rude and deny Joe his number, but he also knows that giving Joe his number means he's in it for the long term and Amber is going to have to become a lot more real than a spur-of-the-moment plan to meet guys. He tries to convince himself that he can't because Joe already has his number, but he's just lying to himself. He changed his number after the last time he and Joe talked and he knows that damn well. He doesn't know what to do. 

Almost against his will, he says, "Yeah, sure, got a pen?" and pulls aside a napkin. 

"Yeah!" Joe pulls a pen from his pocket and hands it over. He looks relieved.

Patrick scribbles down his number, forcing himself to stay calm as he forces himself to write "Amber" underneath it, and gives it to Joe. 

"See you soon?" Joe asks hopefully. 

"Sure," Patrick replies shortly, and with one last forced smile, he gets up and leaves, not too quickly as to seem rude, but quickly enough that he gets out before Joe can say anything else and somehow make this worse than it already is. 

He gets into his car and drives home as fast as he can without getting a ticket. He doesn't want to have to explain this mess to a cop who wants to see his license. Once he's home, he gets out of his car and walks quickly inside, and once inside, he makes quick work of washing off his makeup, putting away the wig, and changing out of his dress and into a t-shirt and sweatpants. 

He's ready to just go to bed, but then his phone buzzes. He checks it to find a text from an unknown number. 

_Hey, it's Joe, from the bar? Is this Amber? I was wondering if you'd want to meet up again this Thursday?_

Patrick's heart skips a beat. Though he'd considered giving Joe his number to be the final nail in the coffin, it's really this. He could easily say that this was a wrong number, or just not reply at all, and this whole mess would be over and everything would be fine again. 

Or he could text back. 

Patrick shakily types a message back:

_Hey! Yeah, it's me! Thursday sounds great! Where?_

His heart is in his throat as he debates whether to send it and really actually go through with this, or delete it and never think about it again. 

He's ready to delete it. He really is. But then he thinks...if he doesn't do this, will he ever find a way talk to Joe again? 

With this in mind, and a shaking hand, he pushes send.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Here's another statistic: Patrick is so, so fucked._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this. this fic. is my baby. 
> 
> chapter two got done really fast. it's short, because it was going to include The Date, but I cut it out last minute because I don't want to have to put any sudden transitions into this one. this fic feels too professional for that. is that weird?
> 
> I like to call this one I Misuse The Word Statistic. 
> 
> enjoy!

Today is Wednesday. 

Here are some fun statistics about Wednesday:

Wednesday is two days after Monday. It's been two days since Patrick had his stupid idea and it's been two days since he ran into Joe while trying to execute it. 

Wednesday is also one day before Thursday. It's one day before Patrick is going to have to see Joe again, and one day before he's going to carry on this stupid plan of his, against his intuition, conscience, and rational mind. 

Here's another statistic: Patrick is so, so fucked. 

He's spent the aforementioned past two days switching between various feelings about this whole mess. For instance, sometimes he's let himself get excited. He'd honestly thought he would never see Joe again, and this is his chance, as strange and unusual a chance as it is. And he gets excited enough that he actually spends extended periods of time planning for tomorrow, trying to figure out trivial things such as what he's going to wear. Patrick has never cared too much about what he wears, not really, but he's been going through the collection of dresses he'd bought (and hell, he went out and bought _more_ ) obsessively, even though he's no closer to knowing which one he's going to wear anyway. 

But also, drastically in opposition, a lot of the time he's completely ready to call this whole thing quits. He's multiple times written out a text to Joe, ranging from a simple "I can't come" to a multi-paragraph explanation of what's really going on, but he never sends them. As horrible an idea as all this is, he's in too deep. He's been in too deep from the start. And the only way to dig himself out is to go through with it. Or it could just dig him deeper in. Honestly, he doesn't know much other than he's in too far to have an opt out option. 

Right now, though, he's just...bored. He's got a book, and he's reading, because fictional characters' problems are nearly as complicated as his own, and maybe if he can solve those he can solve this too. 

He's just about to get to the plot twist that he knows has been building up for chapters upon chapters when he hears a key in the front door, and someone walks in. 

He sighs and closes the book, marking his page with the piece of red string that he's been using as a bookmark and setting it on the table, and then yells, "I thought I took your key away weeks ago."

Pete pokes his head into the living room from the hallway, grinning. "Yeah, but you never change where you hide your spare."

Patrick turns to Pete with an exaggerated sigh. Though he already knows the answer, he asks, "What do you want?"

"Talk to Joe," Pete says simply, not wiping his overenthusiastic grin off his face. 

Irony. Patrick is becoming very familiar with it. 

Pete has been badgering Patrick to "talk to Joe" ever since they stopped talking in the first place. He constantly just shows up at Patrick's house to "remind" him. It hasn't done anything but bother Patrick so far, but Pete seems to mistakenly believe that persistence will change things. 

Of course, Pete has no idea what's going on. He has no idea that Patrick _has_ talked to Joe. In fact, they've been texting almost constantly since Monday. It might help that Joe doesn't know Patrick is Patrick, but that's besides the point. 

Patrick tells Pete none of this. What he says instead is, "Get out of my house, Pete."

Pete looks outright offended, and even dramatically claps a hand over his heart. "Patrick, I have _no clue_ why you would say such a thing."

"Maybe because you have a bad habit of breaking into my house and I want to have at least a little privacy," Patrick suggests, raising an accusatory eyebrow.

"It's not breaking in," Pete informs him. "I have a key."

"That you took without permission," Patrick responds, giving Pete a look that he hopes comes off as more serious than annoyed. "If you really want me and Joe to talk so badly, why don't you go bother him for once?"

"Because, dear Patrick, Joe actually hides his key," Pete answers smugly, though it seems like he should be anything but smug about this. Leave it to Pete to be smug about constantly breaking into his friends' houses. 

"Knock," Patrick mutters, picking up his book again with the intent of showing Pete that he's uninterested and wants this conversation to end. If he's lucky, maybe Pete will even leave. Not that he's ever lucky on that front. 

Instead, Pete says loudly, "Well, at least Joe's moving on, _unlike you_. He even told me how he met a nice girl the other night. Bet you haven't met anyone."

Patrick is unsure of the intent of this statement. Knowing Pete, it could be many things. He could want it to make Patrick jealous of this "nice girl" and go try and "get Joe back" or something. He could just be saying Patrick needs to get over himself, which is contradictory to his whole "talk to Joe" message, but that's just Pete. And he could quite possibly just be saying it to be rude. 

However, none of these things are the effect is has on Patrick. Because Patrick is desensitized to the vaguely rude things Pete often says, he's not getting over himself any time soon, and, unbeknownst to Pete, he _is_ the "nice girl". 

So the effect it really has on him is that he feels a little sick, stands up, and says darkly, "Pete. Get out."

"Whoa, hey!" Pete holds his hands up defensively, shaking his head. "I didn't mean to be rude or anything!"

"I'm serious. Get out," Patrick repeats, taking a step towards Pete so that Pete gets the impression that he is willing to use physical force without him actually needing to use physical force, which is a tactic he's learned from countless situations where he needs to make Pete leave him alone. 

"Okay, okay! I'm going!" Pete quickly backs up, tripping over the edge of a rug as he does. "Sorry!"

Patrick watches as Pete leaves his house and lets out an exasperated sigh. He feels a little bad for kicking Pete out like that, but then again, he really doesn't want to let conversation go anywhere near Amber, because Pete is Pete, and if Pete wants to figure something out, he will. So logically, Patrick just has to leave nothing for Pete to want to figure out. 

He sits back down, frowning. Just as he's about to open his book again, his phone buzzes. He hates to admit that for a second, he's almost excited at the possibility of it being from Joe. 

But when he checks, it's Pete. 

_Seriously sorry if I hit some kind of soft spot. Didn't mean it in any rude way._

Patrick sighs, again. He can't tell Pete that the real reason what Pete said had pissed him off was that if Joe is telling _Pete_ shit about Amber, it means this is all just getting closer and closer to blowing up in his face. 

He quickly texts back. 

_No, it's fine. That was irrational. Not in the best mood._

That doesn't cover the half of it, but it'll have to do. 

_Alright_ is Pete's reply. 

Patrick is about to get back into his book when he's interrupted yet again. Another text. And this time, it _is_ from Joe. 

_Looking forward to tomorrow! See you then!_

Here's one last statistic: Patrick is going to go cry in the bathroom now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm serious guys if you like this please comment it makes my day !!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhh! I honestly wasn't really gonna update this because I thought y'all didn't like this, but then I got some really nice comments and I just had to! So here you guys go!
> 
> And seriously, I LOVE comments, they're really what keep me writing. If you like this, tell me!!
> 
> Enjoy !

The phrase "today's the day" usually has positive connotations and is often used as a precedent to a happy, long-awaited occurrence. 

In this case, however, "today's the day" has rather negative connotations, and it's being used to describe the nauseous feeling in Patrick's stomach as he grips the steering wheel so hard his knuckles turn white. 

Maybe, he thinks begrudgingly, this wouldn't be so bad if Joe wasn't so goddamn sweet about it. Because not only had Joe decided to take Patrick out for lunch - and he'd already made sure Patrick knew he was paying - he was taking Patrick out for lunch at a cafe on the beach. On the fucking _beach_. Who even does that on the first date? He'd even tried to say he'd pick Patrick up, but Patrick had insisted that he could drive himself, thank you very much. Joe is such a hopeless romantic, and it hurts. 

Patrick is sweating from nerves and heat combined, and he's regretting choosing a dress with long sleeves. Granted, it's nice - creamy white with a pretty pattern of dark blue flowers - but god, it's killing him right now. And hey, word to this wise: wigs aren't very fun in hot weather either. 

Patrick turns onto the street his destination is on, only to find it too crowded with cars already for him to park. He makes a noise in frustration and has to hold himself back from punching the steering wheel. But luckily, just then a car pulls away and Patrick takes the spot faster than he had previously thought to be humanly possible. 

He exits his car to find himself directly in front of the place, in an act of luck better than any he has had in his life thus far - and that really says something about how his life has been going. 

Taking a deep breath in a futile attempt to calm his nerves, he pushes open the door and walks in. 

The cafe is one of those places that's just fancy enough to have a front desk with someone stationed behind it, and just casual enough to not have reservations. The lady behind this desk has short cut black hair, blue eyes, and eyeliner so perfectly done that Patrick is actually tempted to ask her for tips. He is not so proficient in the skill that is eyeliner. 

The woman looks up as he enters, which causes an audible soft crinkle from the starched fabric of her overly fancy white blouse. Her name tag reads "Gabby" in a curly, delicate font. 

"Welcome!" Gabby says with a practiced cheerfulness that only those who have held a job such as hers for a long while can have. "How can I help you?"

Patrick pushes back a thought about how maybe having Joe pick him up would be better after all, and begins, "Well, I'm meeting someone, I think? Unless he's already here, then-"

He's cut off by a loud, "Amber! Hey!" from behind him. 

He turns slowly around, killing his doubts before they have a chance to ruin him even more, and sees, as expected, Joe. 

Joe looks like he'd tried to dress nicely and ended up with something just on the edge of "business casual". Patrick has to appreciate the effort. 

"Um, hey," Patrick says nervously, with a nervous laugh to boot. In fact, he doesn't think he could get any more nervous if he tried. 

"I was kind of worried you wouldn't show," Joe admits with a soft smile that borders on sad in just the right way to make Patrick feel horrible. 

"No, I'm here!" Patrick assures him with a laugh that's much less nervous than his last one, which he gives himself a mental pat on the back for. 

"Obviously," Joe agrees, mirroring Patrick's laugh. 

Against his better judgement, Patrick lets himself be happy. He smiles at Joe, and Joe smiles broadly back, and for a moment Patrick lets himself be just the littlest bit okay with this. 

"Would you like a table or what?" Gabby speaks up loudly from behind the desk, managing to sound annoyed while still keeping the professional cheerfulness in her voice with the same amount of skill with which she has done her eyeliner. 

"Oh! Right!" Joe says with another laugh, turning to Gabby. "Yes, thanks."

"Just two?" Gabby asks, eyes shifting between them. 

"Yes," Joe answers, nodding. 

"Alright," Gabby nods back and gets up, grabbing two menus from where they're stored under the desk and leading Joe and Patrick towards their table. 

Or, Patrick thinks, more accurately: impending doom. 

Of course they end up with possibly the most strategically romantic table in the entire place. That is to say, it's right by the edge of the back deck of the cafe, with an amazing view of the ocean, and positioned so it's as far away from any other restaurant patrons as possible. 

It's absolutely perfect, and Patrick hates it. 

Joe is fiddling with the fabric of his shirt, and it occurs to Patrick for the first time that Joe is nervous about this too. For completely different reasons, of course, but that still makes Patrick feel a little better. 

"So, uh," Joe continues to mess with his shirt as he speaks, "I'm sorry, I don't know. I don't really know you, that's the problem."

"Ah," Patrick just barely keeps himself from an all-out panic. He doesn't know how to respond to that. He can't exactly be honest about himself right now, especially since Joe will pick up really fast on who he really is, but on the other hand, he's never been good at coming up with detailed characters. 

He has come up with basic things about "Amber". For instance, her favorite color is mint. Her birthday is the Fourth of July, simply because he thought that would be cool. And...that's really all he has so far. 

"Like, I don't even know your full name," Joe continues, seeming not to notice Patrick's obvious discomfort. 

"I don't know yours," Patrick counters. Well, he does, obviously, but Amber isn't supposed to, so he's going to have to go with it. 

"Alright," Joe laughs, seeming amused. "Trade deal, then."

"Sure," Patrick agrees reluctantly, already searching for inspiration like he had to choose the name Amber in the first place. 

"Mine is," Joe pauses here for dramatic effect, which doesn't really help since Patrick already knows, "Jospeh Mark Trohman. Your turn."

"Okay," Patrick begins. Middle name...all that comes to mind is the lady at the front desk with impeccable eyeliner. Last name...his eyes reach the ocean. Ocean. Has a lot of salt. What's salt? Sodium. So...

"Amber Gabrielle Diem," he finishes. It sounds sort of like a real name, he supposes. 

"Like, 'carpe diem'?" Joe asks, amused. If he'd noticed Patrick's long pause, he doesn't show it. 

"Yeah. Like that," Patrick replies, finding himself unknowingly twisting his hand into the soft fabric of his dress just like he'd noticed Joe doing with his shirt earlier. 

"Cool," Joe grins, then picks up his menu. 

Patrick realizes he doesn't know what to order yet either. He picks up his own menu and scans it. It seems the cafe is also one of those places with extremely small menus; not much to choose from. He's still staring thoughtfully at the menu when the waiter shows up. 

"Have you decided on anything yet?" The waiter (Ian, based on his name tag with writing matching Gabby's from earlier) asks courteously. 

"Yeah, can I have the tomato soup?" Joe asks, smiling kindly at Ian as he orders. 

"And you?" Ian asks, turning to look at Patrick. 

Patrick frowns. He still hasn't decided. Finally, he asks, "Is the macaroni and cheese good?"

"Oh, hell yeah!" Ian responds, then makes a faux face of fear and adds, "Whoops! Shouldn't say that on the job! It's just really good. Seriously."

Patrick snorts. "Alright. I'll have that."

Ian gives him a smile that emanates " _good choice_ " and continues, "And to drink?"

"Oh, just water," Patrick replies immediately. This is another thing he's decided on. He can't risk anything that could blow his cover, so Amber officially doesn't drink. Except, he won't mention it, since he'd had a martini at the bar on Monday and he doesn't want to contradict himself so blatantly. That would blow his cover even worse than drinking. Maybe. 

"Oh, me too," Joe says, which surprises Patrick a little, but then again, he's probably just trying to be nice. 

Ian nods and leaves, leaving Patrick and Joe alone again. Patrick taps his fingers nervously on the table. The silence is uncomfortable. 

Joe breaks it. "Alright, _Amber Gabrielle Diem_. You've got to have some interests, right? Favorite TV show? Favorite bands?"

Patrick immediately decides to stray from the topic of music, because if there's anything that will give him away it's letting himself talk about music. Joe would recognize him in a heartbeat. Instead, he answers, "I don't know, _Joseph Mark Trohman_ , I don't watch much TV. But I guess I like Bob's Burgers."

He immediately winces and regrets this, because he and Joe used to watch that _together_ , but Joe doesn't seem to notice anything or comment on it at all. Instead, he just says, "Oh, me too!"

Not knowing how to continue the conversation, Patrick simply starts tapping nervously on the table. 

Right then, Ian shows up with their waters, setting the cold glasses down with a flourish and a joyful, "Your food will be out shortly!"

Patrick watches him leave with a look of amusement. Ian has an easygoing and bubbly personality that Patrick honestly envies. 

"Come on, there's gotta be more to you than a name and Bob's Burgers," Joe speaks up, startling Patrick. 

"Uh," Patrick starts. The thing is, there really _isn't_ much else to Amber than that right now. He tries to think of something to say, and in the end he goes with, "I guess I like...watching the sun set. But that's not very interesting."

This isn't even a lie, which is why it slips out of his mouth so easily. Luckily, Joe doesn't even know that about him, so it's not going to aide Joe in making any connections anytime soon. 

"Really? That's cool," Joe comments, taking a sip of his water. "Do you have specific places that are, like, nice to watch it from, or...?"

Patrick laughs. "Actually, yes. I do."

Joe beams. "You should take me."

Patrick freezes, considering this. This sounds like Joe is suggesting another date. Which, yes, he isn't exactly opposed to, but at the same time it reminds him that he's eternally growing closer to getting found out, and then...he doesn't even want to think about what would happen then. 

Joe finally takes notice of Patrick's discomfort and asks, wincing, "Sorry, is that personal? Should I not be asking?"

"No, not at all!" Patrick assures him worriedly. If there's one thing that will make him agree to things he shouldn't, it's seeing Joe upset. "I just zoned out. Of course I'd love to take you sometime."

The smile is instantly back on Joe's face. "Okay, great! Sure!"

"But maybe wait until we're done with this first, okay?" Patrick suggests, unable to hide the hint of amusement in his voice. 

"Oh, ha, right," Joe laughs a little. 

Ian appears again with two plates of food, and sets them down in front of Joe and Patrick. 

"Let me know if you need anything else, m'kay?" He asks with a friendly smile. 

"Thanks!" Joe says, smiling back. 

Patrick smiles too, surprising himself when he realizes he's genuinely in a good mood. He knows this is only temporary, and that one way or another it's all going to go down in flames, but for now, just for now, everything seems pretty great. 

Then he turns his attention to his food. The macaroni and cheese is just as good as Ian had set it up to be, and across the table Joe seems to be enjoying his soup as well. 

"How's the legendary mac 'n' cheese?" Joe asks, his tone humorous. 

"Legendary, as expected," Patrick replies, attempting and failing to sound totally serious. 

Joe just laughs and eats another spoonful of soup. 

A silence falls, but not an uncomfortable silence. It's a very comfortable silence, actually, and it continues as Joe and Patrick finish their food and Joe pays, as he'd insisted he would. Patrick feels like he should say something, but at the same time, he doesn't need to. He and Joe exchange occasional smiles and looks and somehow that's enough talking for the both of them. 

When did they stop being able to do this?

Patrick doesn't want to think too hard about that, and luckily he doesn't need to, as Joe speaks up and asks, "Want to walk for a little?"

"Sure," Patrick agrees, finding himself smiling again against his will. 

Joe stands up, and Patrick follows suit. They exit the cafe quietly, getting a wave from Ian when they pass him on the way out. Joe sets off to the left of the cafe, seeming to know where he's going, so Patrick just follows. After a block or two, they end up at an open, picturesque square, with trees with rustling green leaves and a large fountain in the middle. 

"Whoa," Patrick says, hushed, looking around as Joe leads him towards the fountain. 

"I love this place," Joe tells him with a smile. 

"I can see why," Patrick nods. They've stopped right at the edge of the fountain, and some of the spray is landing on Patrick's face. It's surprisingly refreshing. 

Joe reaches into his pocket, and comes out with a handful of change. He hands Patrick a penny. 

Patrick frowns at the coin in his hand. "What's this for?"

"My mom used to tell me if you threw coins in and made a wish, it would come true," Joe answers, smiling softly at the rippling water. He's returned most of his change to his pocket, left just with a penny of his own. He notices Patrick's silence, and continues, "Go on then."

"Oh, okay," Patrick mumbles, thumbing the penny in his hand. The metal is smooth to the touch. After a moment of thought, he tosses the penny into the fountain and watches it slip beneath the surface with a small splash. 

"What'd you wish for?" Joe asks, grinning like an excited kid. 

Patrick laughs. "If I tell you, doesn't that make it not come true?"

"Well, shit," Joe proclaims loudly, earning a glare from a nearby mom who's out with her kid. 

Patrick sighs. It's not as if he'd ever admit that what he'd really wished for was that he and Joe could be like this again under more normal circumstances. But it's not like that's ever coming true. 

He's shaken from his thoughts by a loud splash as Joe's penny joins his in the shimmering water of the fountain. 

"How hard did you throw that?" He asks, gaping at the huge ripples caused by Joe's toss. 

"It's all about technique," Joe informs him as seriously as it seems he can manage. "If you throw it the right way, a penny can make more ripples than a rock."

Patrick thinks this may secretly be a profound statement about his life, but also, it's kind of cute the way Joe is beaming at him like he's just said the funniest thing ever. Not that he would ever admit that. 

Maybe, he thinks, they can end this on a good note. Maybe after this he can say he's moving, or he's just not interested, or some other nice and easy lie, and then he can talk to Joe for real. As himself. Maybe they'd have a chance. Maybe his coin wish would work after all. 

But then - he _can't_. 

Because Joe has taken the very inconvenient opportunity to kiss him. 

The logical side of Patrick's mind is telling him that he needs to stop this right now, immediately, and run far far away, because this cannot end well. 

Unfortunately for the logical side of his brain, as often happens, his heart wins over, and what he really does is kiss Joe back. 

Joe is the one who ends up pulling away, a look of pure joy on his face that hurts Patrick more than he'd like to admit. He can't keep this up. He can't. 

"Well," Patrick says, voice strained. He was intending there to be more to that than just the one word, but nothing else comes. 

"Well," Joe repeats, the grin still on his face. 

Patrick's mind is in panic mode, and all he can think to do is kiss Joe again. Joe certainly doesn't complain. 

Joe pulls away again, his look of pure joy replaced by a softer, gentler smile. He says, "I think I have to go, I'm sorry. But hey, we should totally do this again sometime."

"Y-yeah," Patrick stammers out, trying to sound like he isn't totally freaking out right now. "Yeah, we should."

With one final smile and a "bye!", Joe walks off, presumably towards wherever he needs to be.

"Bye," Patrick answers quietly, even though Joe is out of earshot. 

Has he mentioned that he's fucked?

**Author's Note:**

> whoop whoop as I always say at the end notes: send me prompts n ideas n shit at my tumblr - vicesandvelociraptors
> 
> and I love comments!! please comment on this thanks!!!
> 
> thanks for reading!!


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